Book two of 'The Vengeance Duology'
Five years ago, the lads and I made the biggest mistake of our lives-a reckless decision that shattered everything.
We destroyed what mattered most, but my deepest regret is how much I hurt her.
Every moment of pa...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Come on," Valentina says, her voice sharp and unbothered as she steps over the body like it's nothing more than a pile of laundry. She's already halfway out the door before Jacques even moves, pulling out his phone. I assume he's calling in the cleanup crew, but I don't stay to find out.
I'm on autopilot, trailing after her like I don't have a mind of my own. Pathetic. I hate how easily she makes me fall in line, but hating it doesn't stop me, okay maybe i secretly love it, I'm already halfway out the door, following her like a moth to a flame—or, more accurately, like a dog with its tail wagging for scraps of attention.
The hallway is dimly lit, but it doesn't matter. My focus is entirely on her. The way she walks, confident, unfazed, like she owns everything she touches—including me. And that outfit... Jesus Christ.
She's wearing a sheer bodysuit, so thin it's practically painted onto her skin. Every step she takes has the fabric shifting, highlighting the curve of her waist, the lines of her body, and the black lace of her underwear underneath. It's not just visible—it's on full display.
My jaw tightens. My entire body tightens. I try to keep my eyes ahead, but it's impossible. Every inch of her screams power, temptation, control. And she knows it.
I clench my fists at my sides, forcing myself to focus on anything else. The polished marble floor. The faint hum of the overhead lights. Hell, I even count my breaths. Anything to keep my mind in check—and my body from reacting.
But it's no use. I'm only human, and she's... Valentina. Beautiful. Lethal. Utterly untouchable.
And yet, here I am, following her like a dog begging for scraps.
We finally make it out to the front of the club, the cold night air hitting my face like a slap. It's a relief after the suffocating heat and the tension of the last few minutes. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head, but it doesn't help—not when she's standing next to me, her body practically glowing under the neon lights.
"Come on, we're taking Nicco's car," I say, spotting the unmistakable red Ferrari parked out front. Of course, he'd leave it here. Flashy bastard probably thinks it's safer than Fort Knox.
Valentina arches an eyebrow at me, that faint smirk tugging at her lips. She doesn't ask how I plan to get inside, but she doesn't need to. I fish the spare key out of my pocket and hold it up like a trophy.
"Don't ask," I mutter, earning a soft chuckle from her.
I stride over to the car, unlocking it with a satisfying beep. "I'm driving," I add firmly, pulling open the passenger door for her.
She pauses for a moment, her eyes flicking to mine. That smirk of hers widens slightly, like she knows exactly how much this is killing me. The way she moves as she slides into the seat is deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey.
